Smoky Eyes
by slytherinish
Summary: Harry has a thing for makeup... especially when it's on Draco.


**Disclaimer**: Definitely not mine.

**AN:** This is basically smut. Pure smut. This was inspired by the Elle Vons Unswerth shoot with Boyd Holbrook, who we all know makes a great Draco. If you haven't seen it, I suggest looking it up. It'll give you a nice visual for this story. ;) Please review if you can as I've never written a PWP before!

.oOo.

Harry blinked.

Harry blinked again.

He told himself it was the white-blonde hair that hung loose in front of his eyes, begging to be touched. He told himself it was the black and white photo, grainy enough to look like it belonged in the kind of magazine he'd once have hidden under his mattress to fulfill his adolescent fantasies. He told himself that it was, if nothing else, the mirror next to him that reflected the profile of a beautiful, _fuckable_ man.

In the end, he knew he wasn't fooling anyone, least of all himself.

It was the eyes.

Or more specifically, it was the black kohl smudged around the slate grey eyes. It made them seem luminescent, even with the photograph's piss-poor quality. Harry brushed his fingers over the picture, and put it in the pocket of his pea-coat. He told himself that it was only for blackmailing purposes. He told himself that it was only to instigate a good-natured, _slightly_ ridiculing conversation in the break room come Monday with the guys.

But he knew that if he did that, they'd see right through it.

_Malfoy_ would see right through it.

.oOo.

He'd walked into the Auror Department the next day, his hand reaching out to clap a few of his co-workers on the back. Ever their Golden Boy, he had accepted his post as Head Auror shortly after he and Ginny had gone their separate ways. It was a rewarding job, to be sure, but he spent much of the day pining for the field where the line between reality and fantasy tended to blur, and any present concerns or preoccupations could be forgotten. He would kill to be allowed out on the mission today.

Several of the departments brightest were bent double in their chairs, straightening their leather boots and buckles in preparation to bring down a group of vigilantes, intent on murdering the last of the Death Eaters. _Ex_-Death Eaters, Harry corrected in his mind, amazed that he had the capacity to do so as his gaze fell on the man who had been his greatest preoccupation for half of the night.

His hand was still slightly cramped. His cock twitched – without his approval, _dammit_ – at the memory.

Malfoy hadn't bothered to sit down for the task, and instead, was standing next to his desk, bending over with his back facing Harry as his slender, pale fingers flew over one of his boots, ensuring that his wand was safely stored inside. Harry's jaw clenched and his eyes turned dark with something he was not prepared to name as his gaze raked over the same slim body that infiltrated his fantasies. It was not often that the lovers he imagined were inspired by any one person, male or female, and yet, here was his desire personified…

"Potter! Big day, innit. We'll try to bring you back a souvenir in the form of the bastard's head…" He tore his eyes away from Malfoy to focus – or _attempt_ to focus – on Seamus who looked far too thrilled about the prospect of ending the day with a few broken limbs and a bloody nose.

Harry knew _precisely_ how he felt.

"I expect it delivered on a silver platter by the time my five o'clock shadow shows up."

Seamus grinned and reached out to ruffle his hair – it had become something of a tradition before a mission to mess up Harry's already tousled hair. "So by lunch time, then?" He patted his cheek which was already sporting some stubble. "No razor has a chance with you mate, I swear to _God_…"

Harry grinned. "Piss off, you skinny bastard. And don't get yourself killed if you can help it." Seamus saluted cheerfully and made his way over to the rest of the group, where he began rallying them together to debrief them again. Harry rolled his eyes, though his grin didn't leave his face. As _if_ it were needed… He swore that the git just liked to hear himself talk half of the time, though it seemed to get the rest of the Auror's morale up. Indeed, their enthusiasm could very well be a ruse to get him to just. shut. _up_.

The Head Auror turned to make his way to his own office, where stacks of paperwork awaited him.

But not before he noticed Malfoy watching him.

He could feel his gaze on him as his footsteps echoed off of the long corridor leading to his door. Perversely, even then he imagined those cold grey eyes lined with that obsidian black.

Harry shivered.

.oOo.

By mid-afternoon, Harry had powered through half of his workload and had managed to stop twitching nervously every time he thought about half of his department out in the field, possibly fighting for their lives. So when he heard a clamor of triumphant voices flood the main part of the office and Seamus's shout of, "VICTOOORRRYYYY!" he very nearly fell off of his chair. He nearly did it again when his door flew open and banged into the wall next to it, allowing a very pleased Draco Malfoy to sweep into his office.

Harry righted his glasses quickly, which had gone askew when he'd thrown his hands up in the air in surprise.

"Wh- What the _bloody_ HELL, Malfoy! Fucking knock next time, would you?"

Malfoy merely smirked and brushed some imaginary lint off of his somehow still pristine work robes. "Pity," he sighed. "You've just cost me five galleons, Potter."

He ignored the urge to inform him that it's _Head Auror Potter_, but only just barely. It would have been unfair of him to take advantage of a worker like that, just so he could file it away for when he fell back into his bed that night…

"I bet I'd come in here to find you wanking."

Harry arched an eyebrow and settled his hands on top of his desk. "Well _clearly_ I am not. Sorry to disappoint." He was only glad that his hard-on was concealed by his desk.

Malfoy sighed theatrically and clicked his tongue. "Yes, well… there _is_ always next time. I _so_ relished the idea of barging in here, only to find one hand shoved down your pants, stroking yourself to a fever-"

Harry coughed. "I take it all went well?"

Malfoy blinked as though torn from his reverie. "Oh yes. Finnigan wanted me to tell you that all are captured and ex-DE's, such as myself, live to see another day _much_ to the dismay of the general public. I would imagine." He crossed his arms and raked his gaze over Harry's face, no doubt scoffing at the fact that it did indeed look like he'd not bothered to pick up a razor that morning at all. One arm of his robe dropped away, and Harry could just see the outline of a black scar against the milky white skin there. When he had killed Voldemort, the Mafloys had been excused of their crimes due to their last minute change of allegiance and Harry's own testimony. Draco himself had tried to make amends by joining the squad and working twice as hard as the other recruits. Even Ron had admitted to being impressed.

His work ethic was enough to keep most from commenting on his side job as a model. It was a fact for which Harry was grateful lest any verbal abuse convince the man to stop producing pictures.

"Good, good," Harry said, trying to sound business-like and professional. "I never doubted any member of my squad."

Malfoy smiled. "I don't doubt that. But perhaps…" he paused, "perhaps, you worried about some more than others?" He tilted his head to the side and Harry was again captured by those eyes.

Harry licked his lips slowly. "Perhaps," he said, after a moment's hesitation.

The blonde grinned lazily, then stepped closer to Harry's desk until he can smell the lavender soap on his skin and whatever cologne he wears to work. "One for the road…" He reached a hand out and ran it slowly through Harry's messy, tangled hair. His fingers caught in it for a moment, and Malfoy's eyes dropped to Harry's lips, hooded and hungry. "I'm headed to the interrogation room, you see."

"Ah," Harry breathed, relieved that he's capable of finding his voice after _that_. "Good luck then."

"Don't need it," Malfoy said as he finally pulled away. He turned away to head back out the door, then stopped short. "Oh, nearly forgot."

He turned back around and slid something onto Harry's desk. "You dropped that in the corridor this morning."

Harry's stomach dropped; he knew what it was before he even looked.

The picture of Malfoy stared up at him accusingly with smoky eyes.

.oOo.

The next day, Harry made it a point to avoid Malfoy and flooed directly into his office, for the power now rested with the blonde, and he hardly wanted to give him the satisfaction of using it. He was aware – painfully so – that he had no chance of avoiding him all day. Malfoy would surely make certain of it.

He got his confirmation of the fact shortly before it was time to head home.

Harry had already begun to pack up. Papers lay in disarray across his desk as he attempted to gather them up in a somewhat orderly fashion which would not leave him cross-eyed and frustrated the next day, as often times they did. He'd failed to hear the door click open, or the footsteps crossing the room behind him, or the soft breath that fell somewhere behind his shoulder.

Suffice to say that if it had been a murderer, Harry would have been long dead.

He felt the feather-light brush of lips against his neck, and he shivered involuntarily as he turned slowly on the spot feeling as though whoever this was – and he had a good idea of their identity – had dragged in winter with them.

His breath caught in his throat and his hands flew to the edge of his desk to steady himself.

Malfoy was standing in front of him with a small smirk gracing his lips.

His eyes were shadowed with the same obsidian black he had worn in the photograph.

The blonde nudged Harry's legs apart and stood in the 'V' between them. Harry stood perfectly still; he was already hard. "Why did you have that photograph of me, Potter?" He moved closer and rocked his hips against Harry's with lips parted and half-lidded eyes. "Was it because of the makeup?" He leaned forward and pressed a chaste kiss next to his ear. His breath was hot against his skin as he whispered, "Was it because it makes me look like a girl?"

Harry could only shake his head, because Malfoy's proximity was intoxicating. He had never been this hard in his life.

"Or was it because it was me who was wearing it?"

He bit his bottom lip and his hips pressed forward eagerly, much to his own mortification. Malfoy only laughed softly against his skin. "Because it was _you_."

Something inside the blonde seemed to snap, and he lowered his head to leave feverish bites and kisses along his neck. Harry let his head fall back and moaned quietly under his ministrations, which were incomparable to anything he had experienced before, and so _so_ good. His hips ground against Harry's openly, and he could feel the other man's erection straining against his robes. "The very idea…" his fingers flew to the clasp of his own robes, "of you thinking about me like that has haunted me for longer than you can imagine." He paused. "It has been…" he shoved the fabric off to reveal his bare shoulders, making him appear both both wanton and exposed. He smirked again. "Well. It's been _hard_."

"Fucking bastard."

"Prick."

"Pervert."

Harry shut him up quickly (and effectively) with his mouth. "If I had known this was all it took to make you be quiet, I'd have done it ages ago," he panted between kisses.

"I'm sure you would have." Malfoy continued to grind his greedy hips against Harry's, making the kinds of sounds that would make a whore blush. "And if I had known all it would take to get your attention was a risqué photograph, I'd have left one where I knew you'd find it ages ago."

Harry froze, then laughed. "You've got to be fucking kidding me."

"Mm… shut up." He continued to brushing, rubbing, twisting and turning against Harry's hips, causing a groan to leave his lips in frustration. He could feel the heat and (it seemed ridiculous) he could have sworn he saw sparks bridge the small gap between his chest and Malfoy's. It happened occasionally to witches and wizards, but only if the connection was truly incredible-

Ah. That would explain it. Harry blushed. "What are you trying to do? I'm going to lose it and we still have our clothes on…"

"Well, we _are_ in your office, and you _are_ technically my boss. How many rules do you think we're breaking right now?" the blonde purred against his lips. Malfoy turned until his back was against Harry's chest and leaned against him. "Touch me," he whispered.

Harry hissed softly as his arse began to move slowly against his prick creating a slow friction between them that he felt might bring him to the edge all in itself. He slipped his hand down the front of Malfoy's pants and wrapped his fingers around his cock which felt just as he'd always imagined it would. If it looked as fantastic as it felt, he had a feeling that it would be difficult to ever leave his bed if he ever got Malfoy in it. "Fffff-…" Harry panted. "_Fuck_."

"Agreed," Malfoy gasped, pushing his hips forward involuntarily against Harry's hand. "Harry… Christ, I'm close already."

He leaned his chin against Malfoy's shoulder and hissed against his jaw. "Say that again."

"What?"

"My name."

He could hear the smile in Malfoy's voice. "Harry. _Harry_… oh!" He felt his thin, lithe body convulse and his back arch away from his chest as he guided the man through the peak of his pleasure. Once he had dragged every shudder out of him, Harry pressed a chaste kiss against his neck as Malfoy rested heavily against him, as though he were the only thing in the word keeping him upright.

The blonde breathed in shakily before turning and sinking down to his knees at Harry's feet. He looked up at him innocently and bit his bottom lip as he pulled Harry's prick from his pants. Harry arched his back involuntarily as he licked the head slowly, languidly, as though he _wasn't_ aware that he'd been hard all day. "Please…"

Malfoy sat back on his heels. "Please _what_?"

Harry looked down at him. "Please _Draco_."

Malfoy smirked and took him quickly, swallowing him and enveloping him with his mouth. In no time, Harry was coming in great shudders down his throat with his hand twisted in his hair, and those black-rimmed eyes staring prettily up at him with his cock between his lips. It was, to say the least, the most incredible sight Harry had ever seen, because for once…

For once, reality was better than fantasy.

A few minutes later, the pair of them were tucking in their shirts and attempting to straighten their robes and hair, though their efforts, for the most part, were in vain. Harry caught Malfoy's eye and looked away quickly causing them both to laugh, albeit a little nervously. "Next time, I suggest we do this somewhere more comfortable," Harry murmured wryly, before widening his eyes at his mistake. Perhaps this had been a one time thing… perhaps there would _be_ no next time…

Perhaps Malfoy intended to dismiss him entirely.

Instead, Malfoy simply smirked again. "Mm, but next time, Potter…"

He grinned and slipped his hand down his side slowly and unhurriedly with his smoky eyes focused completely on Harry.

"You wear the makeup."


End file.
